


Long Ago and Far Away

by mydeira, Sadbhyl



Series: Responsible Adults (aka, The Menageaverse) [54]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-07
Updated: 2012-06-07
Packaged: 2017-11-07 04:42:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/427010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mydeira/pseuds/mydeira, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sadbhyl/pseuds/Sadbhyl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A tale from Ethan’s past has bearing on Buffy’s present</p>
            </blockquote>





	Long Ago and Far Away

**Author's Note:**

> Set after the events of Tears of Dying Grace and in place of the episode Older and Further Away. 
> 
> Written by Sadbhyl, beta'd by Mydeira.

It was one of the more reserved birthday parties Ethan had ever been to. But of course there was some question of tastefulness in celebrating the birthday of a girl who four months before had been in heaven. The consensus had been that a party might be just what Buffy needed to shake her out of her doldrums. “But no hootenannies!” Willow had insisted. “Hootenannies always lead to badness. We’ll just keep it to a small, quiet gathering.”

  
She was true to her word. The only people not of the Slayer’s inner circle, such as it was, were a young schoolmate of Dawn’s and himself. He had tried to back out with Rupert on the grounds that the girl really didn’t like him very much, but Ripper was having none of it.

“Oh, no,” Rupert had insisted. “At every single one of these events I end up feeling like the old man of the mountain. Not this time. You can come and suffer along with me.”

“You just want me around to distract the children while you pull Joyce into a closet somewhere for a quick snog.”

Rupert considered that. “You know, that’s not such a bad idea.”

“Not if I get there first, mate.”

It was nice being able to joke about Joyce again. His eyes naturally turned to where she sat in the living room, talking quietly with Tara and Buffy. Their reconciliation had been sweet, but she wasn’t quite her old self. She was less certain, more hesitant than she had been the entire time he’d known her. Even now, when she glanced up at him, aware of his gaze, her smile was almost shy, but in a negative way that made it seem she didn’t think she deserved such attention. He understood the sentiment, but he hated seeing it on her. For his own part, he found himself needing to touch her as often as possible, just gentle caresses of her hair, her shoulders, her back, just to make certain she was real. He had the feeling that if not for the time he needed to spend training Willow, he would be haunting the gallery for moments with her like some love struck teenager.

“And with three hotels, you owe me fifteen hundred dollars,” Rupert’s stern voice drew Ethan’s attention back to the game being played out on the dining room table. In the midst of the detritus from dinner, cake, coffee and soda, the children had set up a Monopoly board and had somehow snookered Rupert into joining them. Although who had taken advantage of whom was open to discussion, judging by the multicolored stacks of paper piled up in front of Rupert.

The others were beginning to notice this as well. “Something’s not right here,” Xander said suspiciously, studying the board. “How come you can afford all those hotels and I can’t even get the second purple property?”

“I’m an experienced businessman who knows how to handle his money wisely,” Rupert sniffed.

“Yes, you give it to me to handle.” Anya snatched his property cards away from him. “Let me see those, old man.”

The others came in to see what the commotion was about, and Ethan took the opportunity to catch Joyce about the waist, wrapping his arms around her to hold her close, her back nestled naturally against his chest.

She smiled and relaxed back against him, covering his arms with her own. “He’s cheating at Monopoly?”

“They’ve been playing with him for an hour, I’m surprised it’s taken this long for them to catch on.”

“I can’t believe it.”

“Don’t let the uptight front fool you. There isn’t a game he doesn’t cheat at. Never play Scrabble with the man. He makes up words on the spot and then convinces you you saw it yourself in the paper just yesterday.”

“Poker?”

“Oh, you should definitely play cards with him. Especially strip poker.”

“He doesn’t cheat at cards?”

“No, he cheats outrageously at cards.” He burrowed his nose into her hair, inhaling her scent as he caressed his lips along her ear. “But I do so love watching you undress.”

She shivered, pressing closer against him.

The back door opened during the playful argument over the game to admit Spike. Joyce was busy watching the game and didn’t notice, but Ethan watched him intently. His usual swagger was hindered by a gimp in his leg which he had disguised by not wearing his ubiquitous long leather coat. His face was bruised and puffy in places, including one eye still swollen almost closed.

“Jeez, Spike!” Xander was the first one to notice him come in. The Slayer looked up in surprise along with the others, but shifted her eyes away at the sight of him.

“What happened to you?” Xander went on. “You haven’t looked this thrashed since Glory worked you over!”

“Yeah, well you should see the other guy. Slayer, can I talk to you?” He didn’t look directly at her as he asked.

She didn’t answer, just slipped out through the french doors into the front hall. He followed after her.

Ethan gave Joyce a quick squeeze. “Go keep your lover from corrupting the innocent. I’m going to get some more coffee.”

She turned her head to give him a quick kiss before moving into the fray. “I’ll take over as banker,” she insisted, taking the tray of money and properties away from Rupert. “It’s the only way I could ever keep Buffy and Dawn from cheating.”

“I didn’t cheat,” Rupert insisted defensively.

“Oh yeah? That’s not what I hear.”

He turned to glare at Ethan. “Traitor.”

She caught his chin, turning him back to kiss him lightly. “Just shut up and play.”

Ethan chuckled and slipped into the darkened kitchen.

From the back of the room he could just see down the hall where Spike had the Slayer pinned loosely against the stairway. “Couldn’t miss my best girl’s birthday, now, could I?” he heard Spike say, obviously in response to a challenge from the Slayer.

“I’m not your girl,” she insisted, but without much vehemence.

“No, you made that pretty clear.” His tone was more alluring than accusing. “Don’t worry, I’ve got every right to be here. Got an invite from Red and everything.”

“Willow invited you? Why?”

“Dunno. Maybe to keep the Niblet company. Or maybe,” he moved a little closer, “she noticed how much time we’ve been spendin’ together and thought you might actually like to have me here.”

“Spike . . .”

“I got you a present.”

“You did?” She sounded girlishly pleased, if a bit coy.

“Um-hmm. Come over tonight and I’ll give it to you.”

“Spike, I shouldn’t. You’re still hurt . . .”

“Don’t worry about it. You know I like how you hurt me in all the right ways.” His words were muffled as though spoken against skin.

“Oh!”

The two jumped apart at the sound of Tara’s voice. The Slayer slipped away, but paused just inside the kitchen door to see what would happen. In the darkness, she didn’t see Ethan standing there.

“I had. . . a . . . muscle cramp,” Spike spluttered. “Buffy was, uh, helping.”

“A muscle cramp? In your . . . pants?” Ethan could hear the amusement in Tara’s voice.

“What, it's a thing.”

“Right.”

The Slayer giggled.

Ethan caught her arm before she could rejoin the party. “I’d like to have a few words with you, if you please.” He guided her forcibly past the hall and into the small sitting alcove. “Sit down.”

She jerked her arm away. “No, thank you.”

“Alright then, we’ll stand. I just want to know, were you just playing too rough? Or did you do that to him on purpose?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, come now, child.” He kept his voice hard and cold. “I know the marks of a severe beating better than anyone. I’ve worn them often enough myself. Those are old bruises Spike’s sporting, at least a week. For a vampire to have injuries severe enough to take that long to heal, he had to have taken some major damage. And I can only think of one person who could beat him that badly and not have killed him outright.”

Even in the dim illumination from the streetlight, he could see her face go pale as she sank down into the chair.

He knelt down next to her, never giving her the comfort of breaking eye contact. “It’s a dangerous game you’re playing, little girl. It’s entirely too easy to go too far and end up doing something you’ll regret for the rest of your life. Or worse.”

“What do you know about it?”

“Entirely too much. I’ve been on the receiving end, remember. I know how it goes. You do your damage and it feels so good at the time, but afterwards you’re sick with what you did, how you treated him. But he comes back with soft words and forgiveness, and you convince yourself it wasn’t so bad. Until the next time. But eventually, you’re going to go too far, step over the edge where all his promises and temptations and forgiveness can’t reach you. And you end up spending the rest of your life trying to make up for it. But you know you never can.”

“How do you know?” Her voice sounded small and sick.

“Because your Watcher went there. With me. And it nearly destroyed him.”

“Giles wouldn’t . . .” she shook her head. “Giles could never have done the things I have.”

“You think not?” He pulled a chair up to sit next to her. “I have a story for you, Slayer. Consider it a birthday present. You’ll be appalled and horrified and disgusted, but hopefully you’ll see I do know what I am speaking of.”

“I don’t want . . .”

“I’m not giving you a choice, girl. Now sit there and listen.”

 

 

Randall was dead.

What was left of his body had been in the ground a week.

The remains of his soul were probably in hell.

We had killed Randall, driven Eyghon back across the veil, spitting and screaming, swearing vengeance. None of us thought he would wait long.

So now we were all in hiding. Waiting to see if Eyghon made his way back, his rage fresh and hot.

But all the hiding and waiting and not doing anything to draw any kind of attention, mundane or mystical, meant that my battery was on overload.

I didn’t dare do anything magical to burn it off, although summoning up another IRA bombing like the one I’d done last year in the West End was tempting. But using magic would only draw Eyghon’s attention if he’d managed to come back through, and I had no intention of being his first victim.

Which meant doing it the other way.

I could have gone to any of them. Had, at one time or another. But Deidre was too passive, and Thomas couldn’t give head worth a damn. Philip had rough hands and a tight little hole and screamed like a girl when he got fucked, but the little wank had scarpered off north to hide with the other sheep. That only left Ripper. Which was fine with me. I was itching for a fight.

And looked forward to losing.

Ripper’s flat, although it barely deserved the name, was down near the waterfront. Not the gentrified, residential, “what a pretty view” waterfront, but the dirty, hardworking shoulders of the Thames. I made my way through the skips and barrels and crates around the old factory Ripper squatted in and climbed the stairs up to the third floor.

The stench of alcohol and sweat nearly overpowered me when Ripper opened the door. He was dressed only in a pair of old jeans, his face bearing several days’ growth of beard.

“Not very comradely of you, holding Randall’s wake without the rest of us,” I said mildly.

Ripper didn’t quite open his eyes as he slurred succinctly, “Piss off.”

“No thanks, I think I’d rather stay.” I pushed my way past and into the office-cum-apartment, snagging the bottle of cheap whiskey from Ripper’s hand and taking a long pull on it myself. “To Randall, the stupid, buggering idiot.”

“What do you want, Ethan?” Ripper staggered over to drop bonelessly on the collapsed couch that also served as his bed.

“Not much.” I unbuttoned my shirt, casting it over the back of the aluminum and vinyl dining chair before toeing off my shoes. “Just you.”

“’M not really interested.” He let his head drop against the back of the couch, but I saw a bit more energy in his face.

“You’re a miserable liar, Ripper.” I crossed over and let my hand slide over Ripper’s denim covered erection, growing harder by the moment. “You’re always interested. You’ll fuck anything, anytime, anywhere.”

“Suck my dick,” he replied.

“Not if you aren’t going to put any effort into it.”

Ripper was on his feet in an instant, his hand locked in the nape of my hair. He dragged me close, then pushed me to my knees. “I said,” he repeated, his voice harsh and commanding, “suck my dick.”

This was more like it. I opened Ripper’s jeans and pulled out his length. Ripper let out a low groan of pleasure as I slid the flat of my tongue down his prick, then up again to circle around the ridge and lap eagerly at the thick head. I could feel the chaos welling up in him, the loss of control despite being completely in control. Doms create chaos simply by dominating. For subs, it’s a little more subtle matter of throwing their master off balance to keep the energy erratic, unfocused. Chaotic. Manipulating that, calling it out of another person, was enough to burn off my excess energy. It took a bit longer, but that had its benefits as well.

Ripper was easy to manipulate. All that anger, the frustration, the power of a young man’s sex drive were a potent combination. And today there was something a little different. It tasted bitter, salty on my tongue. Guilt. Ribbons of it in varying hues, twisting around him, binding him tight. Guilt over Randall. Guilt over enjoying what we did together.

Guilt over wanting more.

“It’s not a fuckin’ lolly, Ethan,” he rumbled in frustration, tangling his fingers in my hair to direct my head. “Suck it.”

The wave of energy that sloughed off him as he overcame his reservations was heady. Oh yes, this was definitely going to be one of our better go-rounds.

I opened my mouth and let him slip it inside, sucking on him in short, furious strokes. I didn’t worry about tiring because I knew he wouldn’t let me have this much control for long. In moments his hands, still tangled in my hair, locked my head in place as his hips began pumping, thrusting deeper and deeper into my mouth. I gave in, just relaxed my jaw and throat and let him ride. “Brilliant little cocksucker, that’s what you are,” he growled in time to his strokes. “Made for it.” He grunted then, his balls clenching in my hand. Just as I felt his first shot hit the back of my throat, I ripped my head away, leaving strands of my hair in his fists as I aimed the rest of his load across my chest and shoulders.

Ripper was furious. As soon as he’d pulled himself together enough, he recaptured my head, dragging me to my feet. “Did I say you could do that?” His voice was ominously soft.

In a tone designed to enrage him even further, I simply said, “No.”

With a roar, he slammed me up against the wall, pinning me there with his hips as his mouth punished mine for its transgression. He released my head with his right hand to slide it through the slippery mess on my chest, gathering up as much of the stuff as he could before pushing down into my trousers to wrap it around my own suffering cock.

“Bloody hell,” I groan against his mouth, the slippery friction heaven on my throbbing prick.

“I shouldn’t,” he said, his voice still as perilous as he buried his teeth in my ear lobe. “You don’t deserve it.”

I shook my head in agreement, sending licks of electricity through me as my ear tugged between his teeth.

“Give me a really good reason why I should, Ethan.”

I gripped his hard-on in my hand yet again and began jerking him in time to his own strokes.

“That’s a start,” he grumbled into my ear.

We fought for dominance, each working the other faster, harder, the first one to come losing. But I was at the disadvantage of not having just come, and within minutes he had me creaming my pants. I kept up the friction on him despite the lethargy washing over me until finally he came again, soaking my trousers from the outside.

Ripper kept me pinned to the wall as our breathing came back down, our still hard cocks rubbing eagerly against each other through the sodden fabric of my pants. “It’s all your fault,” Ripper panted quietly in my ear.

I pressed my hips forward, enjoying the friction. “What now?”

“All of it. Randall, me, all of it. If you hadn’t dragged us all together . . .”

I shut him up with my own mouth, grinding my lips against Ripper’s teeth. Ripper arched against me, the struggle on again. “’S not all on me, Ripper. I’m not the one to come up with the Eyghon invocation.”

I didn’t see the punch coming until it snapped my head into the wall. I couldn’t see for the blobs of color dancing before my eyes, and my face felt loose as though my cheekbone was shattered.

“Don’t like who you are, Rupert?” I said the name derisively. “No one made you become what you are. You came looking for me, remember?”

“And you couldn’t wait to corrupt me, could you?” The next blow knocked me to the floor, where Ripper kicked me, bare toes catching in the intercostal spaces of my ribs.

I coughed, spat up blood, and rolled over to look up into Ripper’s blazing eyes. “Wasn’t hard, was it? A couple handfuls of pills, a few rounds of smoke, some earth shattering sex and you were all for it.”

Ripper’s foot came down at my head with blinding speed, but I managed to roll out of the way of it, scrambling to my feet and trying to put some space between us. But Ripper was faster, catching my arm and twisting it up behind my back, pinning me. “You son of a bitch.”

Despite my precarious position, I couldn’t help taunting him. The waves of chaos coming off Ripper were soothing, as erotic as his touches, and I craved more. “And lest we forget, Ripper old mate, you were the one to bring Randall and Deidre in in the first place.”

Ripper flung me across the room, obviously meaning to slam me against the wall. But I tripped over something soft and my vector changed.

I barely got my arms over my face before I careened through the glass and mullions of the window.

For an instant, I hung aloft, supported in mid air. My last conscious thought was that chaos loves a surprise ending as the inevitability of gravity took hold and I plunged earthward.

The first thing I hit was the edge of a crate. The oil barrels made a ringing sound as I crashed into them. I finally came to a stop on top of a canted pile of pallets. An instant later, glass and splintered moulding rained down on me.

I had no sense of time after that. I thought I heard Ripper’s voice, felt his warm hand on my shoulder. Then professional hands were on me, strapping me to a board, lifting me into a white space with screaming sirens. Ambulance? I heard shouting voices, beeping electronics, felt myself moving fast through a hallway. Then darkness.

When I finally came to, I was immobile, face down and suspended on a traction frame. My eyes were heavy, my head foggy. The side effects of some really good drugs.

I felt the presence of someone else in the room, but couldn’t turn my head to see who was there. “Hello?” I tried to say, but all that made it out was a hoarse rasping sound. But it was enough to galvanize the other person in the room to action. I heard footsteps, and a door opened, followed by soft voices. A moment later, I saw practical white shoes attached to rather elegant ankles before an older woman crouched down to peer up into my face. “Welcome back, Ethan. We’ve been wondering when you’d come back to us.”

There was a flurry of activity that I was only partially aware of, and then I was gently rolled over on my back. To look up into the eyes of a stern faced doctor. “Well, Mr. Rayne, you appear to be a very lucky young man.”

This was lucky? But I couldn’t make the words come out.

“No, don’t try to speak. You’ve been unconscious for three days. Do you remember what happened?”

I thought hard. I’d been at Ripper’s, hadn’t I? Finally, I shook my head imperceptibly.

“You and your friend had been drinking, and you fell out a third floor window. You’ve broken your back, but it doesn’t seem to be impinging on your spinal cord. We’re going to have to keep you in full traction for a couple of weeks, but then if things look properly improved, we can move you to a body brace.”

I fell out a window? Now that I thought, I could remember the window, and the falling . . . And the being pushed.

“We’ll let you rest for now. The nurse will be in in a little while with your medication and something for you to eat. Would you like to see your friend?”

So someone was here. I nodded slightly.

“Alright, I’ll send him in. Welcome back, Mr. Rayne.”

I waited, but no one came. Finally, after a length of time I had no way of judging, the nurse came in with her trolley. “How are we feeling now, Ethan?” she asked cheerily.

I licked his dry lips and forced out the word, “Friend?”

Her cheery expression faded. “I’m sorry. He said he had to leave, and not to expect him back.”

And he didn’t come back.

For the two weeks I was immobilized, no one came except for the Hospitality League lady, who read to me every day. No one came after I was out of the frame and into a body cast. Or when I started the painful physical therapy to regain my mobility.

It wasn’t until two days before my discharge that Thomas came to see me.

“So you and Ripper got into it again, eh?”

I glared at him from my wheelchair. “What do you know about it?”

He shrugged. “Just you, beat up again. And Ripper gone.”

“Gone? Where?”

Thomas shook his head. “Don’t know. Just said he was done, had to stop hiding from his responsibilities. And for us not to try to get in touch. He was here with you while you were unconscious, and then took off. I don’t know where he’s gotten to.”

But I did. He’d gone back to being Rupert Giles, slave to conformity. To his father and his training, his obligation and his destiny. No matter that it wasn’t what he wanted. It was to be his hair shirt. For Randall, for me. For the girl he was going to have to watch die someday.

“Good.”

 

 

The Slayer seemed to take it better than he’d expected. In a quiet voice, she asked, “What happened then?”

“Just what you would suppose. He disappeared into a world of tweed and translations and celibacy for fifteen years until he was sent here to mind you. And I, well, I disappeared into sorcery and chaos. The next time I saw him was when he burst into the shop that Halloween night. I thought I’d been handed the chance to get some revenge, but then Eyghon finally returned and I had to turn to Ripper for help. I took the contract for the chocolate enchantment without knowing all the details. When I found out I’d be coming back here, I knew the fates were laughing at me. I made one more, albeit juvenile, attempt, and that’s when I met your mother. After that, it seemed fairly pointless.”

“So you forgave him.”

“No. I’ve never forgiven him. And he’s never forgiven himself.”

“But you’re . . . together. How . . .”

“Largely by ignoring it.” He shrugged. “The elephant in the room some days. But invariably if we get into a serious argument, one of us will bring it up. We’ve both learned how to use it as a lethal weapon against the other.”

“Why do you bother?”

“If it weren’t for your mother, we probably wouldn’t. But the two of us would do anything for her, so here we are.”

They sat there in silence. Finally, Buffy rose to her feet. “I’m not going to thank you for telling me this.”

He leaned back in his chair. “I don’t expect you to. But think about what I said. Rupert wouldn’t want that for you.”

She stared at him for a long moment, eyes confused and haunted, before she turned and disappeared into the kitchen.

Ethan slouched in his seat with a heavy sigh, rubbing his eyes tiredly. He hadn’t expected the telling of it to be so hard after all this time.

“That’s the story neither of you would tell me, isn’t it?”

He looked up in surprise to see Joyce standing in the doorway, her figure silhouetted in the warm light from the living room behind her.

“I thought you were in keeping the game honest,” he said, a gentle hint of humor in his voice.

She came towards him. “They decided it would be harder for him to cheat at Trivial Pursuit, so they changed games.” She knelt at his feet, resting her hands on his knee. “Am I right?”

He sighed again. “Yes, that’s the one.”

“How old were you?”

“Twenty-three.”

“You must have been so scared.”

He laughed in surprise at that. Taking her arm, he drew her up to sit on his lap, wrapping his arms around her as he tucked her head against his shoulder. “Do you realize that in all this time, you’re the only one to ever say that?”

“I think I see it in your eyes sometimes.” Her arms squirmed in to hold him. “Every once in a while you just look so lost.”

“Hm. Well, I don’t know that I’d characterize it that way, but thank you for noticing.”

“I think you’re wrong, though.”

“About?”

“You and him.” She raised her head to meet his eyes. “You still found comfort in each other even when I wasn’t part of the picture these last few months. You may not have completely forgiven him. But I think you have, enough.”

Unable to answer her, he pulled her head back down to his shoulder, just enjoying the luxury of her presence while trying to suppress all the questions she had raised. They sat there in comfortable silence for a while before he finally kissed the top of her head and lifted her to her feet. “We’d best get back before we’re missed.”

The game was a bit wild when they returned hand in hand to the dining room. Even Spike had been drawn in to team with the two youngsters, presumably to give them a fighting chance. The Slayer was leaning up against the kitchen door, studying the vampire and chewing delicately on one tapered nail.

Rupert looked up from the end of the table where he was trapped. “I see you found your way out of the closet alright.”

Ethan grinned, lifting Joyce’s hand to kiss her knuckles affectionately, never breaking eye contact with Rupert. “Definitely worth the visit, mate.”

He felt the Slayer’s eyes shift to him and then Rupert before returning to the vampire. She began nibbling on her thumbnail.

Good.


End file.
